


Boundaries

by celeste9



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Banter, Cats, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-07
Updated: 2019-05-07
Packaged: 2020-02-27 22:19:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18748228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celeste9/pseuds/celeste9
Summary: Bruce might be waging war with Natasha's cat, but in his defense, the cat started it.





	Boundaries

**Author's Note:**

> I started this weird thing in 2016, abandoned it 800 words in, and now that it has utterly nothing to do with canon anymore, I finished it on a whim because apparently what I needed was fluffy Bruce/Nat with a cat, lol.

Bruce followed Natasha as she unlocked her door, toeing his shoes off as Natasha dropped her keys in a tray by the door and switched the lights on. “I don’t care if you keep your shoes on,” she told him, shrugging out of her jacket and hanging in in the coat closet, but Bruce left them off anyway.

Her apartment was so _clean._ It would be his luck that he’d stepped in some mud on the way and would proceed to track it all over her spotless kitchen tile. Besides, he was hoping to stay a while.

“Trying to push me back out the door?” he teased.

Natasha quirked a smile at him and walked through into the living room. Bruce could hear the sound of a window being pushed open as he went after her, and then –

A small black blur streaked past him, heading towards the kitchen. Bruce blinked at it as Natasha moved after, touching her fingers to his arm.

“I didn’t know you had a cat,” Bruce said, leaning against the doorjamb.

“She’s not really mine,” Natasha said, even as she pulled out a can of cat food from her pantry, opening it and dumping half the contents into a small bowl, which she set on the floor for the cat.

The cat was purring loudly, rubbing around Natasha’s ankles before inhaling the food.

“Right,” Bruce said.

“Liho thinks she has an Avenger,” Natasha said, half-smiling down at the cat.

“Your cat’s name is Liho?” Bruce asked, thinking perhaps he had misheard. He knew the superstitions attached to black cats but actually calling one after the living embodiment of bad fate and misfortune in Slavic mythology seemed to be taking things to a whole new level.

Natasha shrugged. “Seemed to fit.”

Liho had finished eating and was now investigating Bruce, sniffing at his calves and eyeing him with that particular air of vaguely disinterested curiosity that only a cat could pull off. Bruce squatted down and offered her his hand. She smelled his fingers and then flounced off.

“Should I be offended?” Bruce asked, unfolding himself to his full height again.

“She bites people she doesn’t like.”

“You tell me that after I shove my hand in her face.”

Natasha smirked at him. “I imagine you smell at least a bit like me, so you had that in your favor.”

Bruce could feel himself blushing. “Unless she decided to get proprietary.”

“If she’s feeling proprietary she’ll piss in your shoes.”

“Good to know,” Bruce muttered, reflexively glancing in the direction of the front door, where his shoes were waiting.

“Don’t tell me you’re a dog person,” Natasha said, pushing Bruce forward until he got the idea, moving back into the living room. She curled up on the couch, tucking her feet underneath her.

Bruce sat next to her, settling into the corner, as Natasha shifted just a little until their shoulders pressed together. “I never had a pet.” Unless you counted test subjects he’d used in experiments, and he was pretty sure normal people wouldn’t. “I’m not really an anything person, I don’t think.”

“A cat will be perfect for you then. Liho will be happy to ignore you.”

That seemed accurate. Liho was currently sprawled out on the ledge in front of Natasha’s window, tail twitching as she peered outside.

Eyeing the cat for a second longer, Bruce pressed a kiss to the side of Natasha’s face. “Is she going to ignore you for a while, too?”

“Why, I do believe you have dishonorable intentions, Mister Banner,” Natasha said, feigning shock, her fingers curling into Bruce’s shirt.

“Entirely dishonorable,” Bruce agreed, as all thoughts but those of the woman before him faded from his mind.

-

The cat was staring at him when Bruce woke up.

Liho was sitting on Bruce’s chest, her tail curved around her feet, just watching him. Bruce gazed back, somewhat unnerved.

“Er, good morning,” he said, and then wondered what was wrong with him. He was talking to a cat.

Unsurprisingly, Liho failed to respond. She chose not to move, either.

Bruce turned his head to the side, noting the empty bed. He thought he could hear Natasha rummaging about in the bathroom.

That was fine. He could deal with her weird cat on his own. Right?

“How do you feel about sharing?” he asked.

Liho kept staring, not blinking. Bruce knew what a failure to blink meant in the animal kingdom.

“I can do this, too, you know,” he said, keeping his eyes on Liho before pushing her off to the side so he could get out of bed.

She made a disgruntled meowing sound and hopped down to the floor, prancing out the door with her tail in the air.

Bruce sighed.

“Are you waging war with my cat?”

Startled, Bruce looked over to where Natasha was leaning against the door to the adjoining bathroom, one eyebrow arched. “She started it.” Bruce paused. “That sentence didn’t help me, did it?”

“Not even a little.”

“To be fair, I’d prefer a truce.”

“Good luck,” Natasha said, and Bruce had completely no idea how serious she was being.

-

A truce seemed increasingly unlikely the more nights Bruce spent over at Natasha’s. One morning, Bruce put his shoe on only to realize that the cat had hacked up a hairball inside of it. He wasn’t sure he would ever forget the wet squishy feeling on his toes.  About a week later, his shirt got shredded by Liho’s sharp claws, and not many days after that she was conveniently sick on his pants. She also had a habit of zooming by perilously close to Bruce’s ankles as though in a casual attempt to kill him via making him fall on his ass. Or his head.

So the cat was proprietary. Bruce had assumed Natasha was joking.

For her part, Natasha was way too amused by the whole thing and not nearly sympathetic enough for Bruce’s liking. (If her commentary made him laugh, too, well, that wasn’t the point.)

“You don’t have to like me,” Bruce said to the cat once while Natasha was in the shower. “I’m just asking for a little peace. Pretend I’m not here.”

Liho’s ears flicked.

“You can sit in Nat’s lap while she’s on the couch as long as I can lie next to her in the bed?”

When Liho failed to noticeably respond, Bruce hesitantly attempted to scratch her ears. She swiped at him.

Bruce sighed.

-

With Natasha away on a mission that would likely prove lengthy, Bruce decided it was time to sort this mess out. He turned to what he was best at: science.

Okay, so maybe Bruce’s area of expertise wasn’t exactly feline behavioral science, but after seven PhDs he could research the hell out of anything. Tony found Bruce’s new focus hilarious and worthy of mockery and Clint kept sending him links to cat videos on YouTube.

Bruce’s life had been a lot more peaceful when he didn’t have friends.

-

The cat tree had come highly recommended; the reviews were excellent. Bruce spent an hour putting it together in Natasha’s living room while she didn’t even bother to pretend she wasn’t laughing at him. He thought it was too bad that it hadn’t delivered before she came home but then figured that would only have delayed her cheerful judgment of him. Liho came in periodically to watch his progress with her sharp yellow eyes, and sometimes to bat at exactly the screw he was looking for, knocking it away.

Bruce was probably prouder of himself when he finished than he should be; he really hoped Natasha wouldn’t tell Tony. Or anyone.

Liho was sitting on her haunches and watching. She crept closer, sniffing in curiosity. She looked at the tree, then at Bruce, who tried to look encouraging and not like he was dying of eagerness like a four year old on Christmas, craving validation from a cat. Liho turned her back and pranced over to the discarded box, upturned on one side, which she promptly curled up in.

Bruce reminded himself that cats didn’t have the capacity for smugness. They didn’t.

Natasha was all but cackling on the couch. “Just ignore her for a while. She’ll use it when she thinks you’ve stopped caring.”

“You’re doing this on purpose,” Bruce said to Liho, unable to stop himself.

She closed her eyes and ignored him.

-

It was probably pettiness that drove Bruce to transform into the Hulk after he found a hairball vomited on his favorite purple shirt, he could admit it. He just thought, fine, if Liho wouldn’t acknowledge him as caregiver or submit to him as Bruce, maybe at least the Hulk would give her something to think about.

Bruce’s consciousness sank deep into the corners of the Hulk’s mind, receding, aware only that Liho was still watching him.

When he became aware again, shirtless on Natasha’s living room floor, Liho was gone and Bruce congratulated himself. He was the one in charge here, okay? He could outwit a cat.

Two days later, Natasha had printed out a full color picture of Liho perched on the Hulk’s shoulder.

“God damn it,” Bruce said.

-

“Your cat is possessed,” Bruce said into the darkness, lying in bed beside Natasha, watching the glowing of Liho’s eyes where she sat on the dresser, staring at him. “Or she’s the devil.”

“Talking about her gives her power,” Natasha mumbled. She rolled more firmly onto her side, away from Bruce.

Bruce stayed quiet for thirty-two seconds. (He counted.) “You said she’d just ignore me and it would be fine. She swipes at my calves from around the corner and pukes on my clothes.”

Natasha’s sigh was almost theatrically drawn-out. “She’s a cat. She does what she wants. Hell if I can predict her.”

“I can predict that she’s plotting my murder.”

“I’ll give you a nice funeral. Tony will cry.”

Bruce narrowed his eyes at Liho and mouthed, _I’m watching you._

-

Natasha was away and Bruce couldn’t sleep. She had missed her check-in and while that didn’t necessarily mean anything, it was enough for a shimmer of worry to form in Bruce’s belly. Nat, while still claiming Liho wasn’t actually her cat, had nevertheless managed to leave the impression that Bruce should check up on her every now and then. So Bruce had gone over to put food out for the devil cat (he’d bought a rotisserie chicken and chopped some up; the cat had better appreciate it), and now, anxious and too awake, he was sitting on the small balcony with his back pressed against the brick wall of Natasha’s apartment building while Liho lay two feet away, staring out into the night, tail twitching back and forth. The night air was cool, the breeze maybe a little too much so, but this was better than being inside Natasha’s apartment alone, or returning to his own empty bed.

“I’m not the enemy, you know,” Bruce said, watching the flick of the cat’s ears. At least she was listening. “I think we have a common interest.”

Liho didn’t so much as move her head towards his direction.

“I’m actually nicer than the Hulk. He breaks stuff.”

Nothing.

“And I love Nat,” Bruce said, very quietly.

Liho’s ears flicked again, and Bruce continued to sit outside beneath the dark sky, in silence.

-

He should have done this first, Bruce thought, several days later, spreading a liberal amount of catnip on the couch beside him. He supposed maybe he had just thought he could get the cat to like him without such an obvious bribe.

“I’m not proud,” he said, knowing without looking up that Natasha was watching him.

“Clearly,” she said, and went on down the hall.

Liho padded up as Bruce wiped his hands on his thighs, knowing the smell was all over him.

He was either going to get cuddled or attacked. Possibly both.

Bruce eyed Liho as she jumped up onto the couch and sniffed in interest before rolling around on her back, flopping over and kneading into the cushion. He couldn’t help but laugh quietly at her antics; it actually did look like she was high.

He wasn’t expecting it when she crept into his lap, and particularly not the fact that she did so with her claws extended, pinching into his thighs. Bruce winced and she looked up at him unrepentantly, her eyes wide and her tail darting back and forth.

“I guess I’ll accept this as a compromise,” he said, while Liho searched his pants for traces of catnip.

-

Bruce always needed some time after missions that required the Hulk. Natasha mostly let him be, unless he asked her to stay with him. This time she had simply guided him back with her to her apartment and then left him alone to sit in the living room while she showered and ordered takeout.

It took him a moment to register Liho’s presence. She was sitting upright on the couch cushion beside him, watching. Bruce looked back at her, waiting.

“If you’re gonna cough something up on me, just get it over with,” he said. “I’ve had a long day.”

Liho stayed still a few seconds longer and then placed one paw on Bruce’s knee.

Bruce stared at her.

She stepped up carefully and curled up into his lap.

“I don’t have catnip this time,” Bruce told her.

Liho didn’t move.

Bruce barely dared to breathe. Was this it? Their truce? After a moment, he let his hand hover over Liho’s back, tentatively moving to stroke her back.

She swiped at him, not precisely viciously, but warningly, before settling back down.

“Okay,” he said. “Boundaries. I get it.”

He could work with boundaries.


End file.
